On My Own Again
by ArtificialRed
Summary: How will Abby deal now that she's lost Carter's friendship?
1. Default Chapter

*A little bit of Abby angst. Abby's point of view.*   
  
I lost him. I don't know what I did, but I've been replaced. One day we're laughing and joking and the next day Susan Lewis walks through the door and I've been droppd like a dead rat. She had been back for one day and they were holding hands. Funny how quickly I'm replaced. Not just by Carter either, Luka's replaced me already too. I guess they were both just using me till something better came along.   
  
So I've been doing a lot of thinking lately; thinking about me and my purpose in the world. And I've come to a conclusion, I don't have one. There's absolutely no reason for me to be here on earth. I have a crazy mother who's gone and left me alone and a brother I never talk to. I have no relationship and my best friend just left me in the dirt for something prettier and blonde. Not to mention my job consists of following orders and cleaning up shit and puke. Fun fun.   
  
Most people would swallow some pills and get it over with. But not me. I don't have the guts. I'm the kind of person who complains but never takes action. Why? Because I'm too afraid of change. I hate change. I want things to stay the same and I can't stand it when things change despite that fact. I'm not going to swallow pills and I'm not going to put a gun in my mouth. I'm too much of a fucking coward.   
  
Maybe that's why I'm here, sitting in a smoke filled bar full of strangers who are staring at me.   
  
"Is there something wrong with it Hon?" the bartender asks. I've been staring at the whiskey in front of me as though it were dancing.   
  
His question brings me out of my daze, though, and I shake my head "no" in reply.   
  
So here I go. Goodbye life!   
  
"Another," I tell the bearded bar tender as I slam down the empty shot glass in front of us. This continues for another twenty minutes until he imforms me that I've damn near emptied his bottle.   
  
"Open some vodka then," I suggest.   
  
"I don't care about the bottle, Hon. You just drank a hell of a lot for someone your size. I don't think you need anymore."   
  
"I can handle more than you think," I say, but he doesn't look like he believes me. "Fine. Just two shots of vodka and then I'm out of here."   
  
He hesitantly complies, filling a double shooter so I can have it all at once. When I finish I throw down enough money for the drinks and a generous tip. I get dizzy when I stand up, but it's no biggy. It should hit me hard by the time I'm on the El. I might even be able to make it home.   
  
~   
When I woke up I wasn't home. I wasn't at anyone's home, it was a hotel, one I've never seen before. Whoever was here with me isn't here anymore, but I don't care. I don't even care that I made a huge mistake. All I want is another drink.   
  
The clock by the bed says it's seven a.m., which means I have an hour before I have to be in for work. Enough time to shower and raid the in-room bar before I have to go.   
  
~   
I slip into work unnoticed, which gives me an oportunity to grab some clean scrubs to change into. I rinse my mouth out with soap too. It's disgusting, but hopefully it'll help get rid of the smell. The mini-bar only had one little bottle of vodka, so I put that one in my purse to save for later and drank the whickey and drambue instead. I figured I'd need a drink sometime today at work, and since no one can smell vodka on your breath, it's the perfect mid-day drink. I hate my job, but I don't want to be fired. I need the money.   
  
It's slow right now, so I go to the supply closet to do some organizing. No one will see me in there so it's the best place to stay hidden for a while. I really don't feel like seeing anyone. Not to mention the florescent lights are making my hangover worse. I remind myself to go get some aspirin out of the drug lock up.   
  
"Oh hi Abby," chirps Dr. Lewis as she walks into the closet with me. "I didn't know you were here."   
  
I smile politely, but I don't talk. Now her voice is making my hangover worse.   
  
"Could you hand me a suture kit?" she asks. So I do. "Oh, and could you assist me in Cutain area 2." She doesn't wait for an answer because it wasn't a request. So I follow.   
  
I hate my job.   
  
When she's finished suturing, she thanks me for irrigating the wound for her.   
  
"Don't mention it," I say with a fake smile. "It's my job after all."   
  
She gives me a suspicious look, but I walk away. Screw her. I don't care if I was rude, she fucking ruined my life.   
  
~   
Lunch time rolls around and I eat out by the river. I have some water and my vodka to drink. The small bottle wasn't satisfying, so I stroll over to a grocery store and buy myself a medium size bottle, one that will fit in my purse. I drink enough to feel pretty mellow by the time I make it back to the hospital. Just to be safe I find some gum in my purse and pop it in my mouth before I walk through the doors.   
  
"Hey Abby," says Carter as I walk by. "I could sure use your help."   
  
"Okay," is my reply as we start to head towards Exam 2. There was a man on the bed with a severe arm laceration. The cut was about three centimeters away from needing surgery.   
  
"You're lucky that didn't go any deeper," Carter tells him. "How'd it happen?"   
  
"I fell and my arm got snagged on some wire on my way down."   
  
"Were you doing electrical work?"   
  
"Yeah, but luckliy it was a dead wire."   
  
Their banter went on for a while as Carter and I stitched him up. When he was finished he said he had something to do and asked if I would dress it for him.   
  
"Okay," is my reply again as he walks away and waves his thank you.   
  
"Oh, hey. It's you," says the patient after he takes a good look at me.   
  
"Excuse me?" I ask him.   
  
"I'm sorry I left like that. I didn't know I'd be seeing you again so soon."   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," I explain.   
  
"You must have been really hammered last night," he laughs.   
  
"Oh," I say when I realize who he is.   
  
"Well, it was dark and I really wasn't paying that much attention."   
  
"It's okay. Neither was I. I guess neither of us thought we'd be seeing each other again so soon."   
  
"Actually I never thought I'd see you again. And I don't mind that you left this morning."   
  
"Oh. Good. So, no hard feelings?" he questioned quite sincerely.   
  
"No hard feelings."   
  
"So I guess since you're a nurse you're pretty much disease free?"   
  
"Pretty much."   
  
"Me too, so don't worry."   
  
"I won't. Okay, you're all good to go." I say as I get up to find Carter to sign him out. I can see the reflection of the patient put his shirt back on as I'm leaving.   
  
I find Carter at the front desk talking with Dr. Lewis and I hand him the chart.   
  
"He's good to go," I tell him.   
  
As if on cue the patient walks by us both.   
  
"Thanks," he says to us both, and looking right at me he says, "And thank you for being so cool about last night."   
  
"No problem," I say with a forced smile.   
  
"What did he mean by that?" Carter asked.   
  
"Nothing." I start heading for the bathroom, not wanting this conversation to go any farther than it has.   
  
"Abby, what's going on?" he persists.   
  
"It's none of your business Carter," I say just before I push open the women's bathroom door with my back and roll inside.   
  
I stumble over to the sink shaking from embarassment, although I shouldn't be embarassed. I'm an adult and am allowed to make my own decisions. And besides, what does Carter care anyway? He has Dr. Lewis to worry about now.   
  
As I splash water on my face to calm myself down, I make the decision to drink at home from now on. I can't have something like this happening again. If it gets out at work that I'm drinking I'll loose my job for sure.   
  
Speaking of drinking, I could sure go for some now. But I just got back from lunch and it would be suspicious if I took a break so soon afterwards. I'll just have to stick it out for another hour or so. After that it'll only be a few hours until I can go home, with a detour to the liquor store of course. A few more hours and I'll be able to drown my problems and make the world disappear.


	2. Chapter Two

Two weeks gone by and the drinking feels as good as ever. It's probably the most relieving thing I've ever done, and right now I can't remember why I quit. It makes me numb, which is exactly what I need. I can't handle this loneliness. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my best friend. Maybe if I'd just kissed Carter by the bridge that day when he told me how he felt, none of this would have happened. Sure, I still wouldn't have Luka, but at least I would have Carter. Then again, I'm sure he would've just dumped me the second he saw Dr. Lewis anyway. Why'd she have to come back? Why now, when my life was finally good?   
  
I know. God was reminding me that I don't deserve to be happy. I'm meant to go through life unnoticed and die alone. It sucks. Why can't I get hit by a bus and have it done with. Maybe there's something more for me. I doubt it.  
  
I'm laying on my couch right now. My shift's only been over and hour, but I'm nice and drunk already. The TV's on, but I have no idea what the show's about, or even what show is on. I just like the noise and the light. The TV is the only light on in my home. There's two bottles sitting beside me on the couch. One's empty, the other's on it's way to getting that way.  
  
I've never been alone. My whole life I've been taking care of someone; Eric, my mom, Richard, Luka. Well, at least I tried with the latter two. They didn't need me. I guess Carter didn't need me either. No one needs me, so what's the point. There's no reason not to drink, but there's plenty of reasons why I should.  
  
I decide to keep drinking until I fall asleep. Maybe I'll get lucky and not wake up.   
  
~  
"Hey Abby, are you all right? You look like you don't feel to good," Susan Lewis asked me as a poured myself some coffee in the lounge.  
  
Yeah right. Like she actually thought I'd talk to her. Like she actually cares.  
  
"I'm fine," I reply with a fake smile I had recently perfected. "Just a little tired."  
  
"Yeah, me too. Hopefully the coffee'll kick in soon. It's hard to function without it," she sang, trying to make small talk or something. Whatever. Like I care.  
  
"Yeah, I know," I chirp back, being as friendly as humanly possible.  
  
I don't know if she sensed my animosity, or if she really had to go, but she said she had to get to work and then left, leaving me alone to do my dirty work. I took the half full cup of coffee to my locker and opened it. Making sure there was no one around, I took a bottle of vodka out of my purse and poured it into the coffee cup, filling it almost to the brim. Coffee and vodka taste horrible together, but I'm desperate for alcohol, and this is the most subtle way I can think of to have some while at work. I had some before I left home, but not enough. The stress of seeing Carter, Luka and Dr. Lewis was a bit much. I needed a little pick-me-up in order to face them again.   
  
I throw a stethescope around my neck and exit the lounge, sipping my coffee mixture as I walk down the hall. The taste about makes me cringe, but I'm carefull not to show my disgust outwardly, not wanting everyone to know that I'm not really drinking coffee. I then decide that the best plan of action is to drink it all at once. It's not like I care about savoring the flavor or anything, so I put the cup to my lips and sling my head back, letting the lukewarm pungent fluid pour down my throat. When I finish, a shiver goes through my body, but I don't think anyone notices.  
  
Carter and Susan are laughing and holding hands at the admit desk, just like he and I used to do, though maybe without so much flirtation mixed in. I look to my right and see Luka comforting Nicole as she no doubt whines about some other tragedy in her life. Luka used to look at me that way. He was right. I acted like a spoiled high school girl who thought I could have whatever I wanted. I wish it hadn't taken me so long to realize what a good thing I had going with both these guys. I'm only now starting to appreciate it now that it's gone. I'm so fucked up. Why do I have to be so stupid and blind? Why can't I be a normal person?  
  
I want them back so bad. I hate Susan Lewis. I hate Miss Everyone-feel-sorry-for-me Nicole. I just want to clobber them over the heads with an instrument tray.  
  
That thought makes me smile.  
  
"What's so funny?" Carter asks as he walks over to me. Apparently the blonde-winged angel has gone off to do some work.  
  
"Nothing. I'm just remembering somthing I saw on a show last night," I lie, although I'm dying to tell him I find amusement in the thought of hitting his new crush over the head.  
  
"What show?"  
  
"I Love Lucy," I lie again. Hey, I'm getting good at this.  
  
"Yeah, that was a funny show. Listen, can I talk to you for a second?"  
  
"Why not?" I say, still smiling from my earlier thought.  
  
"It's about Susan."  
  
My smile dropped. I don't want to talk about her.  
  
"Well, a lot of her friends from here have moved away, so she's kind of lonely. I told her what good friend we were and she mentioned that she'd like to get to know you better. So, if you'd do me a favor and just take some time to talk with her more. I know she's been trying to, and I also know that you're kind of shy. Just talk to her. You'll really like her once you get to know her. Please?"  
  
He looks like a little kid beggin his friends to be nice to his girlfriend. Where the hell did he get off asking me something like that? Has he become completely oblivious to my feelings? Doesn't he know how hurtful he is asking me to do this?  
  
"Well, from what I can see she has a lot of friends, Carter," I snap, unwillingly letting my anger get away with me.  
  
"What's your problem lately Abby? You've been acting weird ever since Susan came back."  
  
"So have you John. Things haven't been the same between us since she came back, so don't try to act like they are. Just, please, don't involve me with this. I don't need it."  
  
I walk away, and he doesn't try to stop me. He's more stunned than anything. I know what he's thinking. 'She's jealous!' But I'm not jealous really, I just feel cast aside. I've been replaced without warning, and I'm having a harder time dealing with it than I though I would.   
  
God, I want to cry. I need another drink, and I need it now. 


	3. Chapter three

*I know it's been a while. Sorry. I know where I want to go with this story, I'm just having a hard time figuring out how to get there. Please be patient. And Reviews are very welcomed, hint hint!*  
  
  
~  
It's hard being alone. It's this empty feeling inside your heart that I can't quite explain. Yet at the same time I want to be left alone. I don't want people around me. People stay around me long enough for me to get attched, and then they leave. People don't like me once they get to know me, so a sure bet for not getting hurt is not getting close to someone. I should have stuck with that route all along. Everytime I think it's going to be different, that I won't get left behind. Everytime I'm wrong. Why can't I learn my lesson? I'm too stupid to realize that I shouldn't even bother with people. Or maybe I'm so desperate for a conection with someone that I'll suffer throught the pain for just a few moments of happiness. Just a few moments. That's all for Abby.  
  
I gave up drinking before because I was pissed. I was pissed at being stereotyped. Mostly I was pissed at Richard. He thought I couldn't be anything but a helpless drunk woman. I showed him, and we got married. I needed to prove that I could be a normal well adjusted person. I needed to, but I couldn't. He quickly found out how I really was, and he moved on to something with bigger breasts. Asshole. I didn't turn back to the bottle though. I didn't want him to know that he had hurt me so much. I didn't want him to know how much influence he had over me. I didn't want him to know that I needed him, and eventually I didn't. I was still pissed at the world though, and I wasn't going to let it get me down, so I didn't drink.  
  
My attitude is different now. I'm not angry, I just hate myself. I have nothing to prove to anyone anymore. What's the point? I'm a pathetic, worthless, ugly person, and no matter what I do I won't be anything but that. There's no reason for me to be a good person, so why shouldn't I let myself waste away. I don't want to save me, and neither does anyone else.   
  
The phone rings twice, but I don't answer it. I let the machine get it. No one important would be calling me. Besides, I don't think I could talk well enough to have a conversation with someone.  
  
"Abby? This is Dr. Weaver," proclaims the voice in my machine. "Listen, you've missed three shifts in a row now and we haven't even heard from you. I hope everything's alright, but if this keeps going on I'm afraid I'm going to have to take some disciplinary action, and I really don't want to do that. Just call the ER and let me know what's going on, alright?" There was a short pause before she hung up.  
  
It's been three weeks since I last talked to Carter, and three days since I've showed up for work. I no longer see the point in trying to have a normal life, so I've decided to never leave my house again. I've only left my bedroom to pee and get more alcohol from the kitchen. Why shouldn't I waste away? Because I have responsibilities? It's nothing somebody else couldn't do. It's not like I'm irreplaceble. The world will still turn without Abby Lockheart.  
  
~  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
The knocking on my front door wakes me up. I can barely make out the numbers on the clock. I think it says six o'clock, but I have no idea if it's am or pm. I guess it doesn't matter though.  
  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
"Alright, alright!" I shout to the door. I don't care who's knocking, I just want it to stop. I stumble out of bed and knock over a bottle as I do so. I pick it up and take a swig of it's contents. Vodka, an excellent choice.  
  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
"Abby! If you're here open the door!" says an annoyed voice. My mind is too fuzy to recognize it.  
  
I use furniture to help myself up as a try and walk to the door. Somehow I make it there. I barely unlock the deadbolt before I fall to the floor. My butt makes a thumping sound when I fall, and that makes me laugh. By the time Whoever opens the door I'm laughing uncontrolably. All I can make out of them is that it's a man.  
  
"Abby?" he says with concern as he squats down to my level.  
  
"Luka!" I exclaim when I finally recognize him. "What brings you by?" I'm laughing as I talk.  
  
"You've been missing for three days," he reminds me. "Have you been drinking?"  
  
"Just a little," I say, though the empty bottles in my living room give me away. I never told him I was an alcoholic. This is all new to him.  
  
"Why?" he questions me. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"No!" I yell at him. "Nothing's all right! Everything's fucked!" The idiot. Can't he see I've hit the bottom? Of course it's not all right.  
  
He doesn't say anything in reply.  
  
"Why are you here?" I ask.  
  
"Well, you've been looking out for me. I'm returning the favor," he explained.  
  
"Well don't," I say. "I don't need help." I manage to stand up, and Luka does too. I stumble to the living room, falling on my couch. There's a bottle on the coffee table with liquid still in it. I pick it up to drink it, but Luka snatches it out of my hand.   
  
"You need to stop," he says.  
  
"Leave me alone!" I try to get the bottle back from him, but it's no use. He's a very strong man. I give up and start to cry.  
  
"Please," I beg. "Leave me alone." I can could tell I'm about to pass out.  
  
"Finally," I thought. "Alcohol poisoning."  
  
~  
Unfortunatly for me, I woke up. I recognize the place as the ER. Luka must have brought me here. He could of at least taken me to Mercy or something. But I guess he didn't have time to think about that.  
  
"Abby," says Dr. Weaver when she walks in the room. "Nice to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances."  
  
She pauses for a reply, but I don't give her one. My head is reeling. I notice an IV connected to my hand. They must be detoxing me.  
  
"You're blood/alcohol level is unbelievably high. You're lucky to be alive, Abby."  
  
"No I'm not," I think to myself.  
  
"I'll come talk to you when your detox is finished. There's a few things we need to discuss."  
  
I close my eyes when she leaves the room. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep forever.  
  
"Abby," says a voice into my ear. My eyes flutter open to see Luka sitting beside me. "What happened?"  
  
"Isn't it obvious?" I ask.  
  
"Not that. What happened to make you drink so much?"  
  
"Evrything's wrong, that's all."  
  
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he says. "If it's anything I've done, just tell me how I can make it up to you."  
  
"You didn't do anything Luka. I've been this way my whole life. I was just trying to be something I'm not. This is the real me."  
  
"Why didn't you ask for help?"  
  
"I'm beyond help."  
  
"Luka?" comes a voice from the door.   
  
It's the blonde French Waitress. Hasn't she gone away yet?  
  
"Are you ready to go?" she asks.  
  
"Yeah," Luka replies. Turning to me he asks, "Are you sure you don't need anything?"  
  
I nod silently, and then so does he before leaving with Nicole. She wraps her arm around his as they walk away. I close my eyes again.   
  
~  
When I wake up I notice I'm still in the same room, although the IV has been removed.  
  
"Good, you're awake," says Weaver when she enters the room. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Tired," I reply.  
  
"Listen," she begins. "I've been talking with Dr. Greene as to what to do with you. Neither one of wants to fire you. And now that it's apparent that you weren't fit to come in to work these past few days we don't think we have to. However, since you were irresponsible in that you didn't let anyone know what was going on, we feel some sort of disciplinary action is in order. So you're going to be suspended for two weeks. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be," I say. "It's not your fault." I'm finally sober again.  
  
"There's something else I need to talk to you about. Something came up when we did your blood test."  
  
Normally I'd be scared, but I've gotten to the point where I don't care it I live or die. I couldn't care less it they found out I was sick.  
  
"You're pregnant."  
  
Okay, now I'm scared.  
  
"If you'd like I can do a sonogram to see how for along you are."  
  
I don't reply, I just stare blankly.  
  
"I'll come back after you've had some time to take this all in."  
  
She leaves, and I continue to stare blankly. This is the worst thing that could have happened. 


	4. Chpater Four

~  
"Well Abby, these readings show you're about five weeks along," Weaver tells me.  
  
"Thanks," I say. "And Dr. Weaver, do you think you could keep this under wraps. I don't know what I'm going to do about it yet."  
  
"That's fine," she says. "If there's anything else, just call."  
  
I nod in reply. It's strange how nice she's being, but it's still comforting.  
  
Five weeks means it's not Luka's baby. It takes me a while before I remember the one-night-stand I had the night I started drinking again. I don't know his name. I don't even remember the color of his eyes.   
  
Oh God, what have I done? I've been drinking every day of my pregnancy. I've ruined this child's life, and for what? For a few hours of escape. I'm such a selfish horrible person.  
  
I get out of my hospital bed and look beneath it to find my clothes. I pull the curtain and change. I have some serious thinking to do, and this isn't the place to do it. I run my hands through my hair, trying to make myself look like something other than a drunk. Opening the door, I look around cautiously. I don't want anyone to see me leaving. I make it all the way out to the ambulence bay before I hear the one voice I really didn't want to hear.  
  
"Abby. We need to talk."  
  
Carter. The only one who knows the truth about my drinking. His voice is firm. He sounds angry.  
  
"We don't NEED to talk about anything," I reply, not once turning around to face him. I try to keep on walking, but he grabs me by the arm, pulling me to him and turning me around to face him. I've never seen him so angry.  
  
"Why the hell did Luka bring you in drunk and passed out?"  
  
"Well, I guess it scared him. I don't think he's ever seen a passed out drunk before, well at least not anybody he's known personally," I reply. I know he really wants an explination as to why I was drinking in the first place, but since he gave up on our friendship, I don't think he deserves one.  
  
"Abby!" he snaps, not happy with my sarcastic reply. "What the hell were you thinking? Why did you drink?"  
  
"I have no reason not to," I explain.  
  
"You have friends who care about you."  
  
"Really?" I ask. He lets go of my arm then.  
  
"You went on a drinking binge because of me?" he asked, thinking he had the answers to everything.  
  
"Well somebody's a little self-centered, aren't they?" I said, putting him in his place. "And it wasn't a binge. I've been drinking for over a month now. And you know what? I liked it. That's right John. I liked falling over furniture, and throwing up at two in the morning. I especially liked forgetting about my shitty life."  
  
"But why? It's been six years, why start now?" he questioned.  
  
"I don't know. Everything just came to a head I guess. I lost my reason's for taking care of myself. I don't have a point anymore."  
  
"Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you, maybe we could have stopped this whole thing from happening."  
  
"No you couldn't have. And I couldn't come to you either. Things have changed between us. No matter how much we want them to be the way they were again, it won't happen. Things are just too awkward now."  
  
"Why? Because I'm with Susan?" he asked with a twinge of anger in his voice. He was upset at the implication that his sweet blonde-winged angel could do harm. But it wasn't her fault anyway.  
  
"No, not because of you and Dr. Lewis, it's because of the choice you made regarding her. For some reason you felt you had to cut me off in order to be with her. So you did, and it changed things."  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize."  
  
"Don't worry about it. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine."  
  
"Abby, you're an alcoholic. You're not fine. You need help," he pleaded.  
  
"I know, but you can't help me. I need to do this by myself."  
  
"Abby, please."  
  
"Sorry, John. Too little too late."  
  
~  
It's storming outside now as I lay in bed. I feel terrible, and it's not physical pain. I feel guilty. I feel guilty I involved a child in this life of mine. I feel guilty I ruined it's life before it even began.  
  
But why am I talking about it like it's already been born. I still have a choice to make. Any life with me would be miserable. I already spared one child that fate. Who would want me as a mother, and Maggie as a grandmother for that matter. What kind of mother would I be? I don't exactly have a good example to draw from. I would be sparing it the misery I've had.  
  
Yet somehow it doesn't seem right. I've already been so bad to the child, how can I do worse to it now? After what I've done, how cruel would it be to kill it?   
  
I need a drink.  
  
"No!" I snap at myself. I'm pregnant now, I have another person to think of.  
  
I run to the freezer and find the two bottles of vodka inside it. I rip them from the shelves, remove the caps and pour them down the sink. I run through the house then, finding every bottle I had that had even the slightest drop of liquid in it. I pour it all down the sink.  
  
Still in a frenzy, I gather up all the empty bottles and haul them out to the dumpster beside my building. I manage to get rid of all alcoholic paraphanalia in my home. I'm going to give this up. I'm going to give it up for the baby. This little baby's living inside me, and right now it needs me more than anything. It feels nice to be needed. It's exactly what I need. 


End file.
